"It is best not to injure the seals that fasten a package."

"Just as you say, Muller," answered the young commissioner, smiling.
He was still very young to hold such an office, but then he was the
son of a Cabinet Minister, and family connections had obtained this
responsible position for him so soon. Kurt von Mayringen was his
name, and he was a very good-looking young man, apparently a very
good-natured young man also, for he took this advice from a
subordinate with a most charming smile. He knew, however, that this
quiet, pale-faced little man in the shabby clothes was greater than
he, and that it was mere accident of birth that put him, Kurt von
Mayringen, instead of Joseph Muller, in the position of superior.

The young commissioner had had most careful advice from headquarters
as to Muller, and he treated the secret service detective, who was
one of the most expert and best known men in the profession, with
the greatest deference, for he knew that anything Muller might say
could be only of value to him with his very slight knowledge of his
business. He took the knife, therefore, and carefully cut open the
paper, taking out a tiny little notebook, on the outer side of which
a handsome monogram gleamed up at him in golden letters.

"A woman made this package," said Muller, who had been looking at
the covering very carefully; "a blond woman."

The other two looked at him in astonishment. He showed them a
single blond hair which had been in one of the bread seals.

"How I was murdered." Those were the words that Commissioner von